The Journal
by MissDonnie
Summary: Jane starts renovating the cabin and Lisbon starts keeping a journal.
1. Chapter 1 - Starting the Journal

Lisbon was busy with household paperwork in her small office in the condo she's owned for several years. She opened a package her sister-in-law sent and found a book, "Our Journey," containing only blank pages. Puzzled, she rifled through the packaging and located a note. The letter surprised her; she and her sister-in-law don't really talk much. The letter was short, saying only, "I wrote in a similar journal when Peter and I got married. I wrote in it for a whole year, trying to find something special every day worth noting. Over the years it helped me look back and laugh and cry at some of the events. Love, Amy."

She picked up the journal and looked over the nice leather cover, and put it back down. Mulling the idea, she wondered what there'd be to put in it. _It'd be boring. We get up, go to work, work together till Jane surprises everyone and solves the crime - with the team, of course, though you'd never know that from Jane's ego sometimes. We go home. Usually Jane cooks, thank heavens. Boring._ She shrugged and opened the journal, flattening it on her desk. _Guess I could try and see how it goes,_ and started writing.

'FIRST ENTRY: July 15th

'Patrick showed me property he bought far out of town, and told me his plan to make it into a home for us. I looked at the cabin and thought it's a good thing I have the condo. Making that wreck livable would take years! It's been five months. He tackles the renovation after work, weekends and any time he has free. Now it looks like we'll move in after just a couple more months. Despite my doubts (ribbing him constantly), the cabin is beautiful. I can't wait to live there.

'With my blessings, Jane's moving into my condo until the cabin is finished. That way he doesn't have to stay at the motel any longer. So the last few days Jane has been bringing boxes of things from the motel and also a few things from storage that he wants close to him. He put the house in Malibu up for sale (finally!), and was told that it should sell fast for the price he set. The money doesn't matter to him, he just wants it sold. We decided not to tell anyone in the office yet, not until we get past that adjustment period Amy talked about. We figure we know each other pretty well after 13 years. But it's better not to tell the team in case there are any ... rough patches.'

'SECOND ENTRY: July 25th.

'I decided to make a change in our relationship today, and wanted it to be a surprise for Patrick. Today he moved his clothes and boxes into the condo, all piled in the living room. We looked at the boxes and I could see, "Where's all this going to go?" on his face. I had been working in the condo for the last week preparing for this. I took his hand and led him upstairs to my office. I opened the door: It was cleared out, all ready for him. The look on his face! Wish I had a camera. All he could say was, "You did this for me?" We hung his clothes in the closet and put his other stuff in a small dresser that had been sitting empty for years. We unpacked the rest of the boxes and found a place for everything. I was astonished at how many books he has. Some he shelved in the living room bookcase. Others he left boxed to donate to the library. I went to lift another box which I found too heavy to move. I opened the top and had to use both hands to take out a heavy brown jug. Jane saw me and took it and set it on the floor between us. "What's in it?" I asked. He smiled, hugged me and gave me a kiss. He got two pennies from his pocket and put them in the jug.

'The Story of the Jug

'Jane led me to the couch and sat me down, then joined me.

'The jug was my mother's. She kept it in hidden in the kitchen from my father. One day when it was just the two of us, I was around eight, I asked her why she hid the jug from my dad. She kissed my forehead and gave me a big hug. She took two pennies from her pocket and put them in the jug. She smiled at my confusion and ruffled my hair. "A penny a hug, and penny a kiss, someday we will be rich with our love for each other."

'Jane looked at the jug, a smile on his face. I could tell he was reliving that moment from his memory palace. He continued, "After that I would look for pennies lying on the ground, lost by customers who came to the carnival at night. I would run home to our trailer and surprise her with a couple of kisses and hugs and add the pennies to the jug." His expression sobered. "After she died I moved the jug so my father wouldn't find it. He would have cashed in the money to drink his way through the day. There were a couple of loose boards in my closet and I hid the jug there. Every day I would still look for pennies and add them to the jug. It was like giving myself a hug from her."

'I had to blink the keep from crying, thinking about a child searching for a hug every day.

'He shifted and put his arm around my shoulders. "When Angie and I left we took only our clothes and that jug. We continued adding our pennies to the jug and one day it was full. Those pennies - those hugs and kisses - bought our wedding bands." He looked at the band still on his finger. "They weren't the most expensive, but they meant something to us. A few years later I surprised her with a diamond. We both still wore the bands bought with the pennies in the jug." I asked why the jug is so heavy now when they'd used the money for wedding bands. His smile was like the sun. "It's from the hugs and kisses we gave Charlotte. We'd hide pennies in the house for Charlotte to find and add to the jug."

'I pulled Jane closer, kissed him and gave him a hug. Then I got up and found two pennies in my purse. I put them in the jug, which called for another kiss and hug. I told him "Let's keep the tradition going."

* * *

 **Author note's** : The pennies in the jug comes from a very old song, called "A penny a hug, a penny a kiss," by Tony Martin. Here is the whole song.

'I'm gonna save a penny

Every time I hold you tight

And we're gonna watch

The pennies grow.

'I'm gonna save a penny

Every time we kiss goodnight.

And honey when we're married

We can own a bungalow.

'A penny a kiss.

A penny a hug.

We're gonna save our pennies

In a little round jug.

'A penny a kiss.

A penny a hug.

Ohhhh,

How rich we're gonna be.

'A penny a kiss.

A penny a hug.

We're gonna save our pennies

In a little round jug.

'A penny a kiss.

A penny a hug.

Oh how rich we're gonna

Oh how rich we're gonna

Oh how rich we're gonna be.'

* * *

'... ENTRY: August 15th

'Opening the journal today I see I haven't been writing every day, what with our busy schedules. We finally told the team we're living together and, much to our surprise, everyone except one knew - Cho. He was floored. He thought we were close like brother and sister. What a shock. It's pretty amazing that a detective as good as Cho didn't know. Maybe he didn't want to know?

'That night we got home late after a tough case, a young mother and her child murdered in a park. We were called in since the murder happened on federal land. While we were at the scene Jane noticed a uniformed young soldier in the crowd of gawkers. I noticed Jane focusing on the soldier and asked if he'd picked something up. Without a word he walked toward the soldier, parting the on-lookers. I could tell by Jane's stance something was wrong. He said a few words to the man. The soldier took a step forward and hit Jane, knocking him to the ground. The team and MP's guarding the area ran towards them and arrested the soldier. I knelt and when I turned Jane's face to see if he was badly hurt he told me the young soldier was the killer. It turned out to be a random, senseless killing. The soldier didn't even know the mother and child. Later when I asked how Jane knew, he closed his eyes and said, "He was the only one in the crowd who was smiling."

'When got home, he reached for me, kissing my neck, hands roaming over my body. He always knows the right places to touch me. (Hmm. Maybe this journal needs to be 'for my eyes only.') He took my hand and we went up the stairs, continuing to kiss and caress on the way. Whatever clothes were left disappeared fast when we got to the bedroom. Jane kept whispering that he loves me all the while. We fell onto the bed. He was on top of me kissing every spot it seemed on my body. I reached down and pulled him up to me, feeling how ready he was for me. He entered me with a groan and I pulled him in closer. We moved together till neither of us could hold back. We lay together for a bit, him still on top, both breathing hard and hands still stroking each other. He was still inside and I could feel him getting hard again. He shifted down kissed both breasts, running his tongue over each nipple and biting down gently. We started moving again, sharing our bodies and comforting each other. Afterward I lay next to Jane with my head on his shoulder. We didn't talk, words weren't needed. He needed this tonight to feel alive after the case we had. His breathing slowed and I knew he had fallen asleep. He held me close in his sleep, and I fell asleep loving this man more than I can comprehend. I am overwhelmed at how much better life is, how much easier it is being with him. Why did we wait _any_ time once he came back to the States?

'The next morning I woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and bacon. I got up, grabbed my robe and went downstairs. Jane turned and gave me a cup of coffee and a smile. "Good morning, sweetheart," he said. He's been calling me sweetheart for the last month. I never used to like cute names between lovers, but I admit my heart beats faster when Jane does it. I took a sip of the coffee. Without thinking I smiled at him and said "Thank you, Patrick. This is the best way to wake up, you fixing me this great coffee." He stopped dead and stared at me. I wasn't sure what he was thinking until he said, "You called me 'Patrick,'" with a wide smile. I nodded and put my coffee down. I took a step closer and stroked his cheek. "I love you, Patrick." This was the first time I said the words, "I love you." I finally got past _my_ stupid hang-up. A tear slid down his cheek. We hugged and put two pennies in our jug. From now on he's 'Jane' at work, but at home he'll be only 'Patrick,' the man I love.'

'... ENTRY: September 19th

'It's been a while since I've taken time for you, Journal, but I had to write what happened today. I was the kitchen making toast and tea when I heard a scream from the bathroom. I dropped the teacup and charged upstairs. You don't hear a guy scream every day! I got there only to see Patrick standing stark naked in the middle of the hall.

'He was looking at the bathroom door as though it'd open on its own, and he was poised to leave in a hurry. I've seen him a little scared - no secret he doesn't like guns, especially when they're aimed at him - but this seemed worse.

'"Patrick, what's wrong?" I took his hand and made him look at me with my other hand. "I'm worried. Please talk to me."

'Without taking his eyes off the door, he pointed a finger at it. "It's in there! It ... it was walking toward me."

'" _What_ was walking toward you, Patrick? No one's in in there." I had no clue what scared him.

'He was shaking less, but was still rooted in place. I rushed into the bedroom, grabbed my gun and his robe, and raced back. I kept an eye on that door while I helped him put on the robe (not that I don't enjoy looking at his nude body, which looks good enough to eat - pun intended. I always liked his suits, but never imagined the perfectly delectable muscles they hid till we became a couple). He stopped shaking and his breathing slowed...'

 **To be continued**

 **WANT TO KNOW WHAT SCARED HIM, READ THE NEXT CHAPTER.**


	2. Chapter 2 - The Journal, Part 2

The Journal Part Two

 **A/N: Sorry for the delay in this story. Just moved to another state and it took time to unpack and settle in.**

* * *

 **The Journal, Part 2**

"Patrick, what's wrong?" I took his arm and made him look at me. "Patrick, you have me worried, please talk to me."

Without taking his eyes off the door, he pointed a finger. "It's in there. It - it was walking toward me."

"What was walking towards you, Jane? There isn't anyone in there." I said trying figure out what scared him.

He was shaking less, but still seemed rooted in place. I ducked into the bedroom, grabbed his robe and quickly returned to help him put it on. (It's not that I don't enjoy looking at his naked body. I was surprised how good he looked nude. He had muscles that never showed under those suits of his.) With an effort he stopped shaking and consciously tried to slow his breathing to normal.

"Jane, what scared you?" I tried again.

Again pointing at the bathroom door he said softly, "There was a huge spider on the floor and it was near my foot before I noticed it." He again started to tremble.

I stood there, mouth gaping in astonishment. I mumbled under my breath, "My hero is freaked out over a spider?" I finally regrouped and talked to him. "Patrick, that's all you're upset about, a little spider?" He glared at me as though I should be scared also. "Patrick really? A spider." I stepped toward the door and started to open it. Jane involuntarily stepped back, farther from the door. I walked into the bathroom and scanned the floor. No spider. I looked around the room. There it was, soaked and struggling to climb the wall, probably scared by Patrick's scream and wet from the water on the floor. Poor little thing. I took a small drinking cup and slowly advanced to the wall. I put the cup close by and nudged a bit and it fell into the cup. I put my hand over the cup so it wouldn't get loose. Heaven help me if it was loose in the apartment; Patrick would never come back to the place.

"Did you kill it?" He pointed to the cup.

"Of course not. Patrick, it's just a tiny spider and they're beneficial. They hunt noxious bugs," I said calmly, taking my hand off the top the cup to look at the wee creature.

"What are you going to do with it?" he asked nervously, eyes wide.

This was so ridiculous I was tempted to say I'd turn it loose in our closet. But he might never open the closet door again. "I'm going to the kitchen door and release it the yard." I started walking down the stairs then glanced back over my shoulder. Patrick had disappeared into the bedroom.

After I tossed the big bad spider outside I went up to see how Patrick was doing. He had donned his clothes except for his jacket and was sitting on the end of the bed. The color was back in his face, and he looked up with a shrug.

"I realize I over-reacted…" he said sheepishly, blushing in embarrassment.

I sat on the bed beside him, really not knowing what to say. I know many people are arachnophobic, but this was over the top.

"Have you always been afraid of spiders?" I asked neutrally, no hint of snark. He stared down at the floor and wouldn't meet my glance. I began to think he wouldn't answer, when he exhaled in a long sigh.

"I was ten years old. We were at the winter camp so there wasn't a lot for anyone to do, just rest and enjoy the time off. I hung around with some older kids, guys in their teens. I was their fetch-it boy. Any time they wanted something I was the one to get it. One day we were playing baseball and, as always, I was in the outfield. I wasn't really into sports, but it was better than being left behind, alone. One kid, Randy I think, hit the ball over by an empty barn. The ball rolled toward an open door. I ran but wasn't fast enough to stop it, and it went in just a short way. I went in after it. The ball had rolled into a big spider web. I wasn't like I am now about spiders, just had a healthy respect for them."

I watched as Patrick took a deep breath and paused. He looked like he was reliving the experience. I sneaked my hand over and laced fingers. He held it tight and continued his story.

"A couple of the older boys came in asking where the ball was. They were the leaders of our group, maybe something of bullies too. Being the youngest I looked up to them. I didn't want to be kicked out of the gang. Our leader Tommy was sixteen and I would do almost anything to stay in his good graces. He pointed to the ball, gave me a push and said, "Don't be a wimp, get the ball."

Patrick closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. I realized this wasn't easy for him to tell. He was always secretive about his childhood, probably so he wouldn't have to think about it. He resumed.

"The barn was dark inside. When I didn't move Tommy shoved me harder. I knew it was a test and I wanted to show I was just like the older kids. I walked over to the ball and peered at the web. I couldn't see much in the bad light. I reached for the ball and my hand snagged part of the web. I pulled my hand out. It was covered in the sticky web, but I was really close to the ball. When I reached out again suddenly there was a huge spider coming down the web toward the ball. Believe me, Lisbon, this spider was big as a dinner plate. I froze. Tommy laughed at me and the other kids came to see what was going on. I knew I needed to get the ball, so I reached in to grab it and the spider jumped on my hand. I tried to get it off, but the sticky web on my hand kept it on me. I screamed and that made them laugh harder. I shook my hand and the spider went flying. It landed on my thigh and rushed down my leg. Again I stood there frozen and I swear the thing looked at me with a bunch of eyes."

He swallowed hard. Almost too quiet to hear, "I guess I fainted. Tommy dragged me out of the barn. When I came to I remembered the spider on my leg and yelled. All the guys were staring and laughing. I looked at Tommy. He just looked at me and shook his head, then walked away followed by the rest. I was never welcome in the group again. After that, if someone saw a spider they'd drag me over and everyone would laugh. To this day I can't go near spiders, alive or dead. I freeze." He stopped. I silently railed at the casual cruelty of kids. This was small in the grand scheme of things, but he'd been humiliated and left with a permanent terror of spiders. I doubted he had the parental attention and support that helped a kid overcome fear and put experiences in perspective.

Jane hung his head. To my surprise there was more. He continued, "After that I hated the winter camp. That old barn was there, one door always open as though daring me to come in. That night my father was out playing poker and drinking, so I went to bed before he came home. I never knew what kind of mood he would be in and it was safer to be in bed.

Next thing I heard was my Dad banging into the trailer and yelling my name. I knew to get up fast and see what he wanted, especially because he sounded plastered. When I got to the kitchen he had just opened a bottle of beer and downed it in one gulp. Before I could move he grabbed me and dragged me into the living area. I knew better than to ask why I was in trouble, he would tell me in his own time and way. He hit me in the face and I fell down. I begged him to tell me what I'd done. I had done my chores, and I even gave him the money I saved from odd jobs for him to play poker. He shouted, "I can't believe you're my son, screaming like a baby over a spider then fainting like an old woman. Everyone was talking about it, ragging me on how my son is a baby, asking if I still have to change your diaper."

He threw the beer bottle and it shattered on the floor. I looked down and saw a piece of glass stuck in my leg, blood pouring from the cut. He turned away, staggered to his bedroom and slammed the door. I got up, grabbed a kitchen towel and pulled the glass out. I wrapped the towel around my leg but the blood soaked through fast and didn't seem to be slowing down. I knew my father would be passed on on his bed so I went to James. He was once a doctor and I never knew why he was with our carnival. James sewed it up for me - ten stitches. He let me sleep on his couch that night so I didn't have to go home. Before I fell asleep he knelt by the couch and said, "Your old man is pretty rough on you. You're a good kid, Patrick, but you need to grow up fast being around him and the others here. Stand tall and show no fear or you'll never make it." He squeezed my shoulder and turned off the light.

Patrick bent down and pulled up his left pant leg. There was a scar. He let the cloth drop and and said, "My father never touched me again. James beat him up the next day." His lips lifted in a humorless grin - or the best he could do after that story. "Maybe I should look on the bright side. I can't stand spiders because of that but my father never hit me again."

I wasn't sure what to say. He was still holding my hand, but looser. He looked at me and tried to smile, but he couldn't quite manage it.

"Guess I've come down a couple of notches from being your hero…"

I shook my head. "No. You'll always be my hero, Patrick." I stood and pulled him up into an embrace, holding him tight to me. I whispered, "Someday I'll tell you about my fear of snakes."


End file.
